Come Back to Me
by OutlawQueenLuvr
Summary: As Regina's fingers slip through his hand and her face shimmers out of sight, Robin remembers their page xxiii, the folded up symbol of their happy ending, and the already shattered pieces of his heart crumble into dust. A post 4a reunion fic.


AN: Written for OQ Secret Santa

XOXO, Jess

-

Winter's breeze bites at Robin's skin through the thickness of his coat, leaves rustle across the ground, and he watches as Marian stares past him, all around him, but not actually at him from the other side of the town line. There's worry on her face, anxiousness in her voice as she calls his name, calls for someone she clearly cannot see. Bile rises up in the back of his throat, his gut clenches and his eyes burn with unshed tears.

If Marian cannot see him from just a few meager feet away, then in moments when he crosses that cursed line, he'll no longer be able to see Regina.

Panic and dread sink in, take root inside his heart and burden his whole being with a weight he cannot possibly carry. He takes in a shuddering breath and turns around, shoulders slumped, hands shaking and stares up at the love of his life, but her gaze is downcast, eyes flickering over the ground. She's already resigned to the fact that this is it.

This is how their story ends.

The agony clear on her stunning face shatters his soul further.

Oh God.

Regina expected this. Robin knows she expected this. He saw it reflected in her rich, brown eyes the second she told him what needed to be done in order to save Marian. And he blames so many people right now for that – her mother, the late King, this mysterious author – because they've all convinced her that she's still the villain, fated to always lose, to never be happy.

And all he has ever wanted is for her to be happy, even if she thinks that's impossible.

But how can he do that now? How can he give her hope, when for the first time, he doesn't even have any for himself?

Robin sucks in a deep, broken breath and closes the gap between them, hands immediately carding through Regina's hair, lips joining hers in a desperate, needy, searing kiss. She gasps, leans into him, and it's passionate and filled with all the love they can possibly express in just one kiss, but it doesn't last, just like their story it seems – the moment marred by what comes next, what must come next.

Their mouths break apart, and he touches his forehead to hers. "I don't want to leave you," he confesses. Though it isn't anything that Regina doesn't already know. She doesn't want to lose him either, doesn't want him to leave, but he must. By the twisted hand of fate, he has no choice.

They have no choice.

He feels her breath caress his lips as they breathe together, his hands still right where they belong, threaded through her hair as his thumb gently brushes over the ridge of her cheek.

This isn't fair. How is this fair?

The lines on his brow deepen, and he feels an overwhelming urge to put into words how much he ardently loves her. Or at least try. But how can he tell her that she saved his life, that she brought light and possibility back into it, that she changed him, made him better in a whole nother way, that she gave him something he didn't even know was missing until he first laid eyes on her; how can he possibly tell her all of that in the mere seconds they have left?

There have been so many ways in which he's told her that he's in love with her.

My feelings for you were– are real. I'm in love with someone else. Is it because I told you I'm still in love with you? Today is not one of those days. There it is, there's that elusive but satisfying smile I think about every time I close my eyes. We're here now, and this is true. I choose you.

So many moments when he's wanted to just come right out and say it, but he's never directly said those three little words. He rocks into her a bit and traces small circles over her skin with the pad of his thumb.

He won't wait any longer.

"I–" Robin begins, but Regina's ahead of him, as she always is, and cuts him off with a delicately whispered, "I know."

He tries to swallow the growing lump in his throat. Of course she knows. His beautiful, sassy queen. He'd chuckle if this weren't so tragic. Robin uses his hands as an anchor to her, holding on, breathing her in, trying so desperately to burn every part of her into memory.

Heartache creates fissures inside his chest that he doesn't think will ever heal; their lips meet in a fury again, and it's agony.

Agony, because they've only just found each other. Agony, because they've just decided together that this is worthy it. Their love is worth the fight and the trouble and anything else that might come their way.

He chose her. Gods, he chose her. He was ready for the challenge, ready to have more than a conversation with the unseen author, because they were going to find him together.

They were going to be together.

He was not ready for this to be the end of their story. But it is the end. What hope can he offer her now?

As Regina's fingers slip through his hand and her face shimmers out of sight, Robin remembers their page xxiii, the folded up symbol of their happy ending, and the already shattered pieces of his heart crumble into dust.

—-

Hours, days, weeks go by without so much as a glimmer of h– she won't say it, can't bring herself to utter that dreadful four letter word that has her lying awake at night, tossing and turning in between sheets. This evening isn't any different. It's late, just a little after midnight, and the wind is howling, rattling her bedroom windows as rain patters loudly against the glass panes and thunder rumbles the house. It's really storming outside, an unrelenting deluge for the last 48 hours that further dampens her dour mood. Her palm rests over her chest where her heart beat, beat, beats, reminding her that she's still alive, even though there are parts of her that feel numb.

Parts of her that only feel defeated and empty.

Regina groans, throws back the heavy comforter and sits up, running her fingers through her hair to get it out of her face. It's getting longer, falls just a little bit past her shoulders. It's the longest it's been in awhile. Lately, she's thought she ought to give it a good trim, but she can't bring herself to cut it. He loved her hair long, loved threading his fingers through it, and she reveled in the affection, in his penetrating gaze as his fingers trailed languidly across her scalp, sending chills down her spine.

She shakes her head and pushes the growing nostalgia away from the forefront of her mind. It doesn't help to think about him, to think about what she cannot have.

So why does she keep doing this to herself?

Regina sighs, exasperated. Sleep won't come again tonight, not with the pang in her chest that's stinging her eyes with bitter tears and plaguing her mind with what ifs and maybes. It's the what ifs, the path not taken, the choice she made a long time ago to not listen to that stupid fairy that makes her nauseous, rolls her stomach and forces her to be more conscious of each inhale and exhale as oxygen fills and leaves her lungs.

She knows why she does this to herself almost every night, her bed half-empty, befitting her half-empty heart. She misses him, his voice, his calming touch, his confidence in her and unwavering faith that he knew her better than she even knows herself. She misses his adorable toddler, misses walking with them through town, seeing their matching dimple-cheeked smiles, their laughter, the fullness they added to her life.

Before her feet touch the carpet and she stands, Regina already knows where she's going. Grabbing her robe from the hanger on the bathroom door, she slowly throws it on and ties the sash securely around her waist. She's downstairs in the kitchen and pouring boiling water over tea leaves in less than fifteen minutes. She'd gone for the bourbon first, but after staring at the reflective glass for a second, she changed her mind, switching it out for a plain, white tea cup instead.

It reminded her of him – the bourbon – and she definitely didn't need that. She had enough memories keeping the grief fresh and miserable. She didn't require another reason to pile it on higher.

Heavy footsteps shuffle behind her, and she turns just as Henry husks tiredly, "Mom?" He rubs his half-lidded eyes and stifles a yawn. He pads over to her, and she opens her arms for a hug.

"Henry? What are you doing up, sweetheart?" She asks, resting her chin upon his head and giving him a tighter squeeze. He's getting taller, will soon be as tall as her in no time at all, and she frowns thinking about just how much has changed in the last few years. Her little prince isn't so little anymore, she thinks, combs her fingers through his hair and then says, "Did I wake you? I'm sorry, I–"

"Mom, it's–" he yawns again "okay. I was already up." She leans back and gives him a look that tells him she knows he's lying. But he just shrugs his shoulders and smirks lazily. His voice may still sound sleepy, but his eyes are perking up.

He knows why she's awake. She hasn't really been the same since Robin left, since he was forced to leave, and Henry may still be too young to understand exactly what his mom is going through, but what he does know is that she's heartbroken and he wants to be here for her. Not to talk about Robin or Roland, not to bring them up. He knows that'll just make the pain worse, like when he picks at his scabs of wounds that are just starting to heal. Picking at them makes them bleed, prevents them from doing what they're supposed to be doing. No, he won't ask her about Robin; he just wants to be here for her. In whatever way she needs him.

"Are you making hot cocoa?" He peeks over her shoulder at the kettle on the stove and eyes her mug on the counter.

"You know I'm not," she chuckles, grateful he didn't probe or question why she's up this late … or early. She's not sure which this is, considering she never really went to sleep. She gently kisses his brow and then goes to open the cupboard before he can ask his next inevitable question. She retrieves the blue Swiss Miss box and tells him to "grab the whipped cream and milk out of the fridge" while she gets the cinnamon.

It's late, a quarter to 1 o'clock in the morning, and she really shouldn't be giving him sugar at this hour. It's bound to keep him up, but it's technically Saturday and he doesn't have school, and if they spend the next hour or so curled up on the couch, watching a movie, sipping their cocoa like they used to when he was younger, well, she won't complain about that. She'll enjoy spending time with him, having him here, under their roof again in the home they created together.

Regina sets a matching ceramic mug down on the counter next to hers, dumps her tea out and replaces it with cocoa powder. She fills each cup with hot milk after it's had time to boil. The chocolate swirls in easily, a sweet scent permeating the air. Henry hands her the can of Reddi-wip, he smiles up at his mom and she smiles back. It's the first genuine one that's graced her face in days.

Robin's absence may have left a void in her heart, but the love she has for Henry gladly tries to fill it.

—-

He never thought he'd see it again after crossing the town line into forever. But here it is, that elusive but satisfying smile that's been haunting him during fitful nights of sleep. Heartache and tears well up in his eyes as he takes a step toward her, reaches up and cards his hands through her hair. So much time has passed. He can hardly believe it. He's shaking and hesitant, worried that this will be gone in an instant. They both are, but that doesn't stop them from touching their foreheads together and breathing each other in.

"Is this real?" Robin quietly asks, not trusting himself to fall more deeply into this moment. If the last three and a half months have taught him anything it's that things can change in an instant.

Regina nods and buries her face into the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms more tightly around her, his bulky vest and her winter coat getting in the way of how close he actually wants to be to her.

"It's real," she mutters, voice muffled against his throat.

"Regina!" A familiar, little boy shouts, and her head quickly snaps up. She turns around and Roland is running toward her. He jumps up and she just has enough time to open her arms and catch him, an oomph escaping her mouth as his tiny body hits hers. She steps back a bit, almost thrown off balance, but Robin steadies her as she adjusts the four-year-old's weight onto her hip.

"Hello, my little knight," she laughs, brushing her finger across the tip of his nose and saying, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too, Regina!" He practically shouts, and his papa grins at their reunion.

She shifts the tiny tot's weight on her hip again, and Robin offers to take him, but she just shakes her head. "They're waiting at Granny's. There's a welcome home–" she wipes her tears away "party that Snow put together," she says, smiling. "You know how she is."

"Yes, I remember," Robin replies as they start walking down Main Street together, leaving his old (new to him), beat up pick-up truck parked on the side of the road. He learned to drive not long after he, Marian and Roland needed to leave Storybrooke. A kind bloke at the diner a few miles out of town took pity on him and his family. "A bunch of nice, but odd strangers, ya'll are," the man told him, eyeing Marian's cloak, before giving Robin a job and a room in the adjoining motel.

"Where's Marian?" Regina asks, playing with Roland's soft curls as they walk and making sure her coat is closed snugly.

She still has something she wants to tell him, needs to tell him, but she doesn't want to do it here, not when she's worked so hard to keep it a secret from everyone else except for Henry in the last few weeks.

"She's just outside of town. She has a job now as a waitress like Ruby," he responds, placing his hand on her lower back as they step up to the front door to Granny's. He stops her for a moment and tilts her chin up so he can look into her eyes when he tells her, "With the town line down, we can go back and forth; we've already discussed it," and then he says, "I'm not leaving you again," because he knows she needs to hear it just as much as he needs to say it out loud.

They don't stay at Granny's for long. They drink hot cider and cocoa. He greets old friends. Henry and Roland play in the back with Emma and Killian, while Regina talks with Snow and David, cradling baby Neal in her arms as the two parents look on adoringly. Many ask about how Marian is doing, he knocks a few back with his Merry Men – John, Tuck and Will – and they tell him about what they've been doing while he's been away. Will takes particular pride in telling him that he and the Queen have become quite chummy, giving him a wink at the end that makes Robin smirk and roll his eyes. He's grateful they looked out for her while he was away, grateful he has family he can count on to take care of his own, especially when he's not around to do it himself.

He looks up again to watch Regina as she rocks the young prince in her arms, swaying lightly on her feet. She's positively radiant, but he scowls a bit. The first thing he did when he stepped inside was take off his winter vest because of the indoor heat.

Why is she still wearing a heavy sweater?

—-

The answer comes to him later that night, after they've tucked Roland and Henry into bed upstairs. Regina takes him back to her room, closes the door, and she smiles at him. It's this breathtaking smile that makes her face glow, almost as if she knows something that he doesn't. He cocks his head to the side and joins her on the edge of the bed, pulling her hands into his.

"What is it?" He asks, like he's done so many times before when her eyes have glistened the way they are now.

"I–" She begins, and then pauses, because really she's not sure how to tell him her secret. Every way in which she can say it sounds silly inside her head, and she knows she's overthinking this, but she wants it to be perfect … no, no she doesn't. She just want it to be honest. She just wants to tell him. She just wants to show him. So that's exactly what she does. She slips her hands out of his and grabs the edge of her sweater, pulling it up and over her head.

He chuckles, thinking she's going somewhere else with this, but then his eyes travel from her face, down the column of her neck, to the valley between her breasts and then–

And then his eyes stop, and what he sees steals his breath away.

He inhales sharply and tears immediately prick at his eyes. There's a twinge of sadness still, at the time they've lost, but other than that it's just overwhelming elation. There are no words for the love swelling in his heart, no proper thing he can say to express the joy seeping into every crevice of his previously broken heart.

Regina's mended it, made it new yet again, with her smile, her beautiful, elusive but satisfying smile that's currently beaming upon her is better than any page xxiii, better than any foolish author who thinks they have a hand in their fate. Robin captures her lips in a passionate kiss, and they spend the night trying to show each other just how much they love and missed the other.

In the early hours of the morning, Robin wakes disoriented and startled for just a moment, but then the panic passes and he remembers where he is.

Not long ago, he awoke each day to agony torn anew. A pain in his chest that couldn't be mended or healed. But today is different. Today Robin wakes up to tiny rays of light filtering in through heavy winter curtains and the feel of Regina's warm, naked body snuggled close beside him. His face buried in her fragrant hair, a hint of rose hips and something else that can only be described as entirely her fills his senses. He shifts a bit, pulls her closer so her back is flush with his chest, slips one of his legs in between hers and tightens his grip.

His palm coasts down her side and gently grazes her hip. She's warm, like a human heater (or at least that's what Henry called her yesterday before she glared at him and gave him a knowing look that told him to stop it. The reason for which Robin is now privy to), and as his cold fingers inch their way toward her navel, her body shivers in response and then she snuggles closer to him. He grins as his hand rests over the slight curve of her belly, his thumb tracing patterns there. Robin swallows the lump in his throat and sniffles, his smile reaching his now closed eyes. He opens them as Regina scoots a tad away from him and then turns to face him.

It seems he's not the only one awake.

She blinks a few times before meeting his gaze and then she's caressing his jaw and bringing his mouth to hers. She kisses him, one peck and then two. Unhurried, relaxed, gentle, just her lips moving against his lips until he deepens it, angles his head and cards his hand through her hair, one of his legs finding its way in between hers again. He pulls a pleasant gasp from her plump, kiss-swollen lips as he adds a bit of friction, rubbing at the apex of her thighs. Her brow furrows but in an entirely delicious way, and he keeps doing it, keeps rubbing up against her, until his leg starts to cramp, so he moves them, rolls them over so he's propped up on his elbows, hovering above her. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are heady. She places her hand on his chest, opening and closing her fist, splaying her fingers out over his skin, panting and trying hard to catch her breath.

Regina looks up at him, and she beams, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I love you," she says and then one tear slips out the corner of her eye, followed by another and another, and then a single drop splashes onto her cheek. He lifts his hand up and realizes he's crying as well.

They laugh brokenly through their tears and Robin lays back down and pulls Regina into his arms. They never thought they'd have this again; they never thought they'd see each other.

"I love you, too," he whispers, kissing her brow.

After months of being apart, he's finally right where he belongs - their boys sleeping just down the hall, the love of his life back in his arms and their baby growing safely in her womb.

Disclaimer: They're not mine


End file.
